


Still More to Lose

by Anonymous



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Angst, M/M, Muteness, Mutilation, Old work, Other, There is a Hell on Earth and it is in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 23:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19936069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Somehow when Jesse thinks he's hit rock bottom, that this is the lowest he can go, he finds that there's still something more to lose. At least it's not Brock.





	Still More to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old work of mine that I wrote for a prompt on the BrBa kink meme back around 2014. I finished it up in 2015, but by that time, the kink meme had already died. Also, from what I recall, it wasn't to the exact specifications of the prompt.
> 
> Admittedly, I don't like this work much, as it's a bit too emo for my tastes, but I'm currently purging my folder of old fics and posting any semi-decent ones.

Jesse taps the meter despondently. The needle moves, leveling out properly, and Jesse briefly records the number before moving to the next step. Declan’s equipment is not too different from his and Mr. White’s set up, but the machines are all calibrated improperly.

Todd glances over at him, peering through his mask. “Is everything okay, Jesse?”

Jesse doesn’t respond, just writes another few measurements down.

Todd takes that as a yes and returns to his machine. A while later - 

“I’m taking a break, Jesse. Finish what needs to be done. Do you need anything?”

Jesse sighs, then brings three fingers perpendicular to his face, tapping his chin with his index.

Todd nods, understanding. “I’ll bring some water back.”

The silence resumes.

* * *

_ The pool table digs into Jesse's chest, inflaming the tissue around his chained waist even further. He whimpers involuntarily. It hurts. He can't really feel it anymore, but it hurts. _

_ His head spins and lurches uncomfortably, his throat raw from screaming. The silenced bang, the drop, a doorway death. He'd almost forgotten Boetticher, now he has Andrea to listen to for the rest of his miserable life. _

_ “Look at the pussy cry!” Says one of the Nazis. He's the same one that's yanking Jesse's sweatpants down. Thick fingers curl around Jesse, stroking abrasively. _

_ Kenny pins his wrists down to his waist by his chains, looming over him. His belt is unbuckled, the button undone. “A rat whore is no better than a spic, you know. We should put a bullet through your head for all your whining.” _

_ “Not just yet. Toddy still wants the little bastard to cook for him. Can’t hurt him too bad.” Another Nazi snubs his cigarette into Jesse’s thigh, watching him sob. The man’s lips curl into a cruel smirk. “Don’t mean we can’t do nothing.” _

_ Fingers push into him, barely lubricated with spit, and Jesse cries out. His fingers grasp at his shirt. He thinks of Andrea, thinks of the way he used to run his hands through her hair, and his fingers grip tighter, curling against the fabric to keep from breaking down. _

_ It doesn’t work. Doesn’t stop him from absolutely fucking  _ disintegrating _ into a blubbering mess when Kenny invades him. At least that’s who Jesse thinks it is, from this angle. Someone wrenches his head back, making Jesse arch his back uncomfortably, and Jesse can see nothing but the far wall through his tears. He’s wailing, he’s crying, he’s stammering “stop, stop, please”, and he can’t control himself. Can’t keep composure, can’t keep calm, can’t keep himself or his life or his lovers, his anything, he can’t keep it together. _

_ The fifth one - Matt - growls when he penetrates him. “God, do you ever stop crying, you fucking pussy?” He flips Jesse unto his back, grabbing at his throat, his fleshy hands exerting crushing pressure. “Shut up, you little shit. I don’t wanna hear no more sounds outta you. Bitches like you don’t need to be heard.” _

_ “Hey, Matt, we can’t kill him. Jack said no, remember.” _

_ Matt’s hands slacken, and his face becomes oddly pensive. “Still, he don’t need to speak.” His thumb brushes against the hollow of Jesse’s throat. “Kenny, you got internet in that phone of yours? I don’t think Jack’ll mind this.” _

_ Kenny sighs, pulling out his phone. “What are you thinking?” _

_ “Nothing a rat like him don’t deserve. A nice warning - keep him from ratting ever again.” _

* * *

They gave him a few words. Todd gave him ‘water’ for when he got thirsty in the lab, ‘bathroom’ for when he needed to take a fucking piss or shit or whatever. Jack gave him ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ because even a rat like him “needs to show some fucking respect”. Kenny gave him ‘no’ so he could watch him beg with his hands while being violated. They never stopped, and Jesse never used the word, but it was a courtesy, he supposed.

Jesse knows he looks stupid to them. He always has, always will - the chains guarantee that - but it’s more than that. It’s funny to them to watch him humiliate himself in an attempt to communicate even the most rudimentary need. It’s almost as humiliating as when they piss through the bars of the cage or leave him chained in the building after using him, but not quite.

* * *

Tonight, Todd smiles at him through the steel bars. “Lydia was real pleased with the new cook, Jesse, you wouldn’t believe how well it turned out. Ninety-eight percent, you think you could do that again for me tomorrow?”

Jesse’s gaze flick upwards towards Todd’s face before falling back down. He brings the blanket tighter around him.

“C’mon, you could at least nod.” Todd glances over at his bucket. “Which reminds me, Jesse, I got a gift for you for doing so good. Lydia helped me pick it out after I mentioned what happened to you to her. Her eyes got all big when I mentioned it, you know? She’s got really pretty ones, so it was okay, though.”

Jesse almost finds it hilarious how Todd keeps rambling like Jesse’s suitable company. Like Jesse cares, even though all he wants to do is wrap his arms around Todd’s throat.

The bucket makes a dull sound as it hits the ground, and Jesse crawls over to it, expecting to see some more ice cream or some other crap, only to see a book. It leans against the side of the bucket, and the light from above illuminates its title:  _ A Beginner’s Guide to American Sign Language. _

Jesse’s hands shake.

Todd jostles the rope from above. “Take it, Jesse. I still gotta give you dinner, too.”

He all but snatches the book from the bucket, holding the thick volume between trembling fingers. He almost brings up his right hand to sign ‘thank you’ instinctively, then pauses, bringing the hand back down to cradle the book. This is the most humane thing Todd’s ever done for him, but Jesse’s not ready to ever show gratitude to him.

Still, Todd lets out a satisfied hum, pulling the bucket right back up to refill it. “I’ll leave the tarp a bit off for you tonight, okay Jesse? Can’t leave it open all the way ‘cause of last time, but I think you can get a little light if I flip one of the corners.” With that, Todd delivers Jesse another stale meal of leftover pizza, and leaves.

Like he promised, a bit of light makes its way through an uncovered corner of the bars. There's barely any light in the hole, but it’s enough, just enough, for Jesse to make out the symbols on the pages. He drags his fingers across the lines and illustrations, and for a moment, he’s found salvation.

Then just like that, it’s gone. The compound lights flicker and dim, and the illustrations fade to black.

Jesse clutches the book to his chest and sobs.


End file.
